I’m two weeks away from my official due date and it’s finally starting to hit me (like a ton of bricks) that I will have not one but two babies to care for.

And so even though for the past two months I have been wishing and waiting for this pregnancy to be over so I can regain some of my old physical agility (and by agility I mean the ability to bend over without saying oy), suddenly, I feel the need to slam the brakes of time and hang suspended in this moment forever.

Because right now, things are pretty good. My daughter is awesome. She is SO cute and SO sweet and blahblahblah no one is really interested in hearing someone go on about their baby. Suffice it to say that at 12 months, she laughs, interacts, plays and I can’t possibly express how much I love her.

She also recently started sleeping through the night (poo poo poo) – which makes a huge difference in my normalcy and ability to function. She had done so at various other ages, but teething and viruses got us off-track. Now we’re back on, and even though I still wake up in the middle of the night (because it’s only been three nights, and I’m worried – why hasn’t she woken up? Is she okay?), I think I could just as easily get used to not waking up.

And in general, I feel like I’ve reached an even keel. It took me a while to adjust to motherhood, but finally, I’ve got the hang of it! I can get a babysitter and go out with my husband at night (when my daughter was younger, I was too nervous). I’m writing again, something I hadn’t even dreamed of doing for the first six months post-partum. I have a pretty good handle on keeping the house clean, cooking and baking and am also enjoying my steady, part-time job.

So what am I doing, upsetting the status quo???

Am I insane???

My nights will be sleepless, at least for a few months. My daughter will most likely go through some sort of adjustment period that I can imagine will not be too much fun for anyone involved. I will also go through a period of adjustment, which, depending on how my hormones play out, will also be not-too-much-fun or really-not-fun for everyone.

Not to mention that I want to cry at the thought of my daughter raising her arms for me to pick her up, and me being unable to because I’m nursing or holding another baby – who I’m sure I will love as much as my current daughter, but at this point might as well be an alien.

So in between panicking at the thought of juggling two babies and being so desperate to just reclaim my body, I’m in a bit of a bind.

Luckily (I suppose), the choice is not in my hands. Time marches on, and there’s little I can do to stop it. Ready or not, my world is about to be rocked.

I should really just put aside all my worries and fears, and pray that the new baby will be healthy. That’s really all that matters.